“Fire and furies!” cried the leader startled by the sudden appearance
of the man, “whom have we here? Whoa, Ned!”
“Only me,” replied the strange scout, meekly. “Don’t ride over me,
Mister Sojers, and I’ll get out of the way as soon as I can.”
“Who are you? and where do you come from, old man, at this hour?”
“My name is Moses, sir! am going to my darter’s, Ann Mayhesters. P’raps
you know Ann Mayhesters?”
“Hang you and Ann Mayhesters. Get out of my way, old graybeard, or I’ll
ride right over you.”
“Don’t, Mister Sojers; have respect for these gray hairs. Whither do
you ride so fast?”
“Ride over the old fool,” exclaimed one of the horsemen.
“Say, old man, have you seen any one on your journey to-night?”
“Seen any one, my young friend, truly I have not, barring one and I
would hardly think of naming her.”
“Then you have seen one--a woman, too!” cried the other, eagerly.
“Boys, she is our game.”
“Ten to one!”
“Where did you see her, old covey?”
“Oh, way back here, heap of a ways. She hid when I kem ’long, and I
didn’t let on thet I see’d her.”
“She’s the one. Old man, we are sent out to capture that woman. She’s a
spy. Can you show us where you saw her?”
“She a spy,” grasped the disguised scout.
“Can you guide us to her?” asked the officer, growing impatient.
“Can I? O’ coorse I can. The way is as plain as the road to Ann
Mayhesters’. You----”
“Then lead us to her if you value your life, old man.”
“Yes--yes!” mumbled the other; “only it’s a heap of a road, and I’m not
very fast. Can’t I jess get a lift ’hind one of you fellers?”
“Let him get up behind you, Landaff.”
With what assistance the other could lend, the scout climbed up on the
horse’s back behind the rider.
“Don’t go fast,” he muttered, “or you’ll throw me off. Keep straight
ahead till I tell you to stop.”
Mara was an anxious spectator of this scene, and as she saw the little
cavalcade ride away bearing in its midst the scout she was at a loss to
account for his singular course.
She could not think that it was to work her harm. What then could be
his object?
The road followed by the horsemen led toward the mountains.
They rode on for a mile or more before any one spoke, when the leader
reined up.
“How much further, old man, must we go?”
“I see’d her jess about thet turn. But she were going up the valler.”
“Then we shall soon overtake her; that is, if she was on foot.”
“She were.”
“Good; come on.”
After going half a mile further the old man called upon them to stop.
They were now in the heart of a wild country.
The mountains loomed up in the distance ahead.
On either hand was a rough, broken ravine or gulch running back to the
base of the heights.
“Hark! I thought mebbe I herd her holler. But my old ears ain’t to be
depended on like they were once. Ann Mayhesters, my----”
“Shut up your gabble, old fool!” commanded the leader. “I thought I
heard some one cry out.”
In the silence that followed a faint cry was borne to their ears from
the fastness of the region to their right.
It was beyond dispute a woman’s voice.
“It is her!” exclaimed the old man, excitedly. “She has fell among the
rocks.”
“It must be she,” declared the officer. “But how in the name of Jackson
can we get our horses up the gully? We shall have to leave them.”
“So I reckon,” affirmed the scout. “And you’ll have to leave me, too.
Hark! there is her cry agin.”
There was no mistaking the fact.
“You remain here with the horses, Landaff, while the rest of us go up
and capture her. We shan’t be gone long.”
Quickly suiting action to words they dismounted and started up the
ravine.
The cry was heard again.
The Wizard Scout calmly watched the departure of the five men until
they disappeared from sight.
He was still sitting on the horse behind the one called Landaff.
Suddenly the latter felt a vise-like grip upon his mouth, and the next
instant both were struggling on the ground.
“Don’t move if you value your life!” hissed the scout in his ear. “I am
going to bind you but will not harm you if you are quiet.”
It was but a few minutes’ work to carry out his design, and he not only
bound but gagged the man.
“I’ll risk you now,” he said.
The other rolled his eyes and glared furiously upon him, but was
powerless to help himself.
“Now I’ll just do a little confisticating,” declared Old Fatality, as
he prepared to take away a couple of the horses. “As I don’t want you
to tell any stories on me I’ll take you along, colonel. Yes, by goll,
and I’ll take all of the horses.”
Seizing Landaff in his arms as if he had been a child the scout placed
him upon the back of one of the horses.
He then mounted one of the others, and prepared to lead the rest.
Glancing up the ravine to see that the Confederates were nowhere in
sight, he started down the road.
Walking the animals until beyond the hearing of his enemies the scout
then increased their speed.
A few minutes later he stopped in front of the place where he had left
Mara.
She was about to leave her hiding-place feeling certain that he had
deserted her. Her joy at his return was very great as may be well
imagined.
Before she could speak the scout exclaimed:
“Quick! mount one of the horses and foller me. I hev left the graycoats
in the lurch up yonder--all but this one and he’s for company. Come on!”
Scarcely waiting for Mara to gain a seat upon the nearest horse the
Wizard Scout rode ahead.
The captive Confederate was beside him grimly biding the time when he
could give his vigilant foe the slip.
The loose horses were kept along for a time when one by one Old
Fatality let them go, not caring to be bothered with them longer than
he could safely avoid.
Nothing was said by either of the party, each being occupied with
conflicting emotions.
To Mara the scenes of the past few days seemed like a horrible dream.
In the midst of her anxious thoughts the Wizard Scout suddenly reined
up his foam-flecked horse. His long, gray locks streaming in the night
breeze, his deep-set orbs of vision burning like coals of fire, he
presented a wild appearance.
“Hark!” he said, sharply, “I hear the hoof-strokes of a body of
horsemen coming this way. They must be grays and we are sure to meet
them!”